Sick Swan
by unbrokensaviorwithperfecthair
Summary: David sends Emma home to Killian when she's sick. He's more than happy to nurse his Swan back to health, but then he catches her cold. As the entire Charming Family finds out (not that Snow's complaining about getting to mother people), Killian's a much worse patient than Emma. Mostly fluff with a tiny sprinkle of drama.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This was inspired by my own week and a half fight with the flu (or the world's worst cold). I'm really not sure which it was, but either way it was miserable. But on the bright side, I watched all of Rebecca Mader on LOST (I guess I have the unpopular opinion of loving Charlotte Staples Lewis). I highly recommend watching it for those of you who haven't.

This takes place sometime after 5B. I haven't read any spoilers, so I don't know what happens other than Emma and Co. go down to the Underworld to save Killian (which I'm assuming they succeed in). I'm also operating under the assumption that since Ginny's pregnant in real life, they're going to work that pregnancy into the show, so Charming Baby #3 is along the way in this story.

I haven't written in quite a while, but I really want to write a Charladay fic (Charlotte and Daniel from LOST), and since I feel most comfortable writing Captain Swan, I figured writing a little ficlet for them might be a nice way to get my mojo back. That being said, I apologize for any OOC-ness and feedback is always welcome.

Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time or its characters.

* * *

Emma Swan was sick. Her immune system usually combatted any virus before symptoms even developed, but this time was different.

Her entire body hurt. Her head felt like it was going to explode. She was coughing every ten seconds, which made her head hurt worse. She was _miserable_.

Yet there she was, sitting at work, slumped over some unnecessary paperwork she swore Regina pressed on the Sheriff's Department just to get back at her and David for… whatever it was they did that week.

Her dad sent her yet _another_ worried look, and she fought the urge to roll her eyes only because it would make her blinding headache worse. As if he was reading her mind, David rolled his chair closer to hers, and fixed her with a look she was sure she'd gave to Henry at one point or another.

"You don't feel good," he said, more as a statement than a question. She was about to protest and answer 'I'm fine', as usual, but she suspected the fact that she hadn't even touched her now cold coffee gave her away.

"It's just a cold," she said instead. He put the back of his hand against her forehead and frowned.

"You're burning up, Ems," the prince said. "Why don't you go home? I can handle things here."

"No," she shook her head, and immediately regretted it. "I'm okay."

"Emma", he insisted more sternly this time, "it's not just a cold. You have a fever."

From her fake memories of raising Henry, Emma knew that he was right. If the roles were reversed, and Henry was the one who was sick, she'd be keeping him home from school; fevers weren't to be taken lightly.

Then again, she'd hadn't missed a day of work in… well, she didn't know how long. She'd always dragged herself out of bed and managed to get in on time, sick or not sick. So surely she'd be fine now.

"I've had worse," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "Besides, I don't remember the last time I've called in sick… or gone home sick." Now it was her turn to frown, her face scrunched up in thought.

"Well, now you will," he said, standing up. "Come on, I'm taking you home."

"Dad‒"

"This isn't up for negotiation," David fixed her with a look that usually only Snow gave to her. It was enough to shut up anything else that was about to come out of her mouth.

"Fine," the blonde sighed, and went to grab the coat off the back of her chair. Her hand missed completely, and she stumbled forward, reaching out for anything to steady herself with. She all but crashed into David, who gripped her elbows tight.

"Let's sit you down," he said, and if she wasn't a parent herself, she'd have missed the worried undertone he tried so hard to hide from her. He guided her back down into her chair and knelt down in front of her. "Have you eaten anything today?"

"Umm…." She looked off into the distance, wracking her brain for an answer to such a simple question. "I think Mom made me toast, but I wasn't hungry."

"So that's a 'no'," he sighed. "Do you think you can make it to the car if I hold onto you?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, that's what we're going to do," he said, helping her into her jacket. Slowly and carefully, he helped Emma stand up. After seeing that she did better this time, he started guiding her towards the door. "It's going to be cold outside," he warned as he opened the front door of the building.

"It's times like these that I miss Tallahassee," the blonde joked, but it lacked her usual enthusiasm.

"I don't know about you, but your mother and I can barely be out in the sun without getting burnt," he said, "so I imagine you must, too. Yet you liked living in Florida?"

"Well… I liked the sunshine as long as I was in the shade. And the total lack of snow was pretty great, too," Emma replied.

"I imagine," he said as he opened the passenger door and got his daughter situated. He then rounded the car and got into the driver's seat, and started the ignition. "Is Killian home?"

"What?" Her head lolled to face him, and he shrugged.

"You're either going to Snow or to Killian, it's your choice."

"No sense in getting my brother sick…" Emma trailed off, and he knew what she meant.

"To the Victorian by the sea it is," he announced, and shifted the car into 'drive'. Though she'd never admit it, the idea of being doted on by her wonderful boyfriend thrilled Emma to no end, and David knew it, too. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Emma said with a quiet voice,

"Once, before the curse broke, I got a migraine. I get them a few times a year, it wasn't a big deal. Mary Margaret thought it was, though, and she wouldn't let me leave my bed. When I had to throw up, she'd bring a trash can. It was ridiculous. If I set even one toe on the carpet, she'd give me this glare…"

"I believe it," David said, his voice pained at the thought of his baby girl being sick and him not able to be there to comfort her. "One time when I had the flu, in the enchanted forest, she did the same thing. I remember having to go to the bathroom, and it took nearly five minutes for me to convince her to let me get off the bed."

"She goes a little overboard sometimes," Emma joked, sighing contentedly as she rested her head against the cool glass of the window.

"Are you still dizzy?" He asked worriedly.

"I'm fine unless I stand up," she answered.

"Then we'll keep you sitting."

The rest of the drive was spent in silence. In fact, it was so quiet that David thought Emma had fallen asleep. He looked over, and found that she was staring off in space. He sighed internally and gripped the steering wheel tighter.

Though Killian and Emma had worked past most of their issues from their time as Dark Ones, he knew both of them still had bad days. The pirate had nightmares he refused to admit to, and Emma felt soul-crushing guilt that she didn't want to unload onto anyone else. Killian had barely looked David in the eye since the former's return, and the prince knew it was because Killian had quite literally almost killed his entire family. He'd done the right thing in the eleventh hour, and at the end of the day, David couldn't really hold anything against him, nor did he blame Emma for doing whatever it took to save Killian, even if that meant turning him into a Dark One. The only people he really blamed for the whole mess were Gold and Arthur.

Of course, Emma and Killian, being the two most stubborn people in the world, still blamed themselves. David knew that kind of guilt wouldn't go away, not completely, but the pair were making progress, and slow progress was better than no progress.

"Dad?" Emma's uncharacteristically small voice pulled him from his thoughts.

"Yeah, kiddo?"

"I‒" she sighed and closed her mouth, then shook her head slightly.

"Emma, you can tell me anything," David said, reaching over and grasping her hand in his larger one. The blonde looked down at their entwined hands and bit her bottom lip. He knew that whatever she wanted to say pained her deeply. He'd come to realize that with Emma Swan, the more she fought against tears, trying to salvage any sort of wall, the deeper the wound. So he waited her out, knowing in her own time she'd finish what she'd started saying.

"I really hate being sick," she said quickly, all her breath coming out in a rush. "It… it sucks. And, well, you know that," she laughed nervously, picking nonexistent fuzz off her black pea coat with her free hand. "So I'm sure you also know that 'sick nightmares' are the worst…" she trailed off, hoping her father would be able to put two and two together.

"Have you been having nightmares, Emma?" He looked over again and this time was unable to hide the concern on his face. Normally it would have the blonde rolling her eyes and hiding a touched smile, but she didn't even seem to notice. To answer his question, she simply shrugged, a noncommittal gesture, but he took it to mean 'yes'. After a few moments, she said,

"Usually I can handle them. They scare the shit out of me and I wake up drenched in sweat, my heart hammering in my chest, but I feel Killian next to me and I know he's alive. I had them a lot as a kid, but no one was ever there to comfort me, so…" she shrugged again, then continued, "so I guess I'm used to dealing with them on my own. And I'm okay with that. But you know when you're sick, and you're on cold meds, and you can't quite tell what's real and what's not after a nightmare? That's what I'm worried about." She chewed on her bottom lip, no longer on the verge of tears, but her anxiety was building.

"Why haven't you told anyone this?" David asked to buy time while he formulated a response that would soothe her fears.

"Killian doesn't say anything, but I know he has nightmares too. He always puts me before him, and if I told him about my nightmares, he'd push everything he's dealing with aside to help me, and he shouldn't be doing that right now."

"Yet that's exactly what you're doing," David pointed out gently.

"I know," she sighed. "I just… I feel like out of the two of us, he definitely drew the short stick, ya know? He never wanted to be a Dark One, and I took that choice away from him. And he did worse things than I did, and I know it makes him physically sick. And then I killed him, so that was traumatic. He just… he doesn't need to be taking care of me right now, he needs to focus on himself."

"Then who's going to take care of you?"

"I'm good at that," She said, eyes downcast, knowing he wasn't going to like her answer.

"You don't have to, sweetie. And believe me, we all know that you can take care of yourself, but you don't have to. That's what family's for."

"I know," she sighed, removing her hand from David's so she could wrap her arms around herself protectively. "But with Neal starting to be mobile, and another baby on the way, you guys have enough stress without having to worry about me."

At that, David slammed on he breaks, the cruiser squealing to a halt in the middle of the road. Emma flew forward a little, eyes wide, and David winced at his lack of tact.

"Emma Swan, you listen to me right now," he said, his loving voice laced with conviction, "you're our baby, too, even if you're thirty years old. It's our _job_ to worry about you, and believe me, we do. You're our _daughter_ , and we will gladly offer you whatever support you need. So you damn well better get used to having us around, cause we're not going anywhere."

Emma stared at him, speechless, for what felt like an eternity. At first, he thought he'd angered her, or worse, scared her. Then, finally, she put her hands up and said,

"Okay."

"Do you understand?" He asked, breathless from his outburst. She swallowed and nodded.

"Yeah."

"Good," he squeezed her hand, then pressed on the gas, and they rode the rest of the way to Emma's house in silence once again.

* * *

David thanked his lucky stars that it was a Monday; on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, Killian headed to the station after cleaning up around the house, which meant that he left a few hours after Emma. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, he worked at the library with Belle. David knew Killian would be home and more than happy to take care of Emma. As they pulled into the driveway, Emma said,

"You never answered my question."

"Oh," he said softly. "Well, I think that you and Killian will figure things out. You two tend to have a way of doing that, without really trying. Can I ask why you don't push him to talk about his nightmares?"

"Because I know him," the blonde replied. "I know he's embarrassed about them, and he wouldn't want anyone to know, especially me."

"Maybe that's his problem. You're so open with him, Emma, you let him see a side of you you never let anyone else see. Maybe he needs to learn to do the same with you."

"Maybe," she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. The front door to the Victorian creaked open and Killian emerged, worry evident on his face.

"I got it," David said, getting out.

"Is everything alright, mate?" the pirate asked before David even had the chance to close the driver side door.

"Emma's sick," David explained as he rounded the front of the car, Killian hot on his heels. Emma rolled her eyes and instantly regretted it, as it made her headache intensify. Her father opened her door and carefully pulled her out.

"I could hear you, ya know," she said, trying to inject some of her usual sarcasm. It fell flat, though, as she stumbled, and it took both David and Killian to keep her upright. Killian made a move to pick her up, and she muttered, "If you so much as have the _intention_ of carrying me I will ki‒" she cut herself off, realizing the truth that would've been behind the threat. The pair locked eyes, and David briefly wondered if he was going to have to play Dr. Phil.

"It's okay, love," Killian smiled reassuringly, but his words sent poor Emma to tears. Both men could feel the guilt radiating off of her in waves, and the darker haired man could've kicked himself for being so stupid. Why'd he have to say _those words_ , of all things?

Emma looked around for an escape route, as she often did recently when things got emotional. However, she slumped against her boyfriend when she realized that in her state, there was no way she could even stand up by herself, let alone walk or run.

"Let's get you inside," Killian said, and he and David managed to get her into the warm house and onto the couch.

"You should go back with David," Emma said as she wiped away the last of her tears and pulled a blanket around herself. "There's a lot of stuff to do."

"No, Emma, I'm not leaving you while you're sick."

"This isn't my first rodeo, I'll be fine."

"You can't even stand up," Killian pointed out and with that, Emma sighed in defeat.

"Fine."

"I just have to go back and switch the calls to come to my phone, then I'll be back," David declared.

"Unless Emma wants you here, I think I've got things covered. After all, how much trouble can a sick Swan be?"

"Go," Emma nodded to her father, her voice soft. "We'll be absolutely fine."

David looked torn, but finally knelt down next to her and kissed her on the head.

"I'll check in in a few hours," he promised. "I love you kiddo."

"Love you too," she yawned, and fell over from a sitting position to laying down.

"Keep an eye on her," David said quietly as Killian walked him to the door.

"Of course," Killian nodded. "I won't let her out of my sight."

With that, the pirate shut the door behind his friend and turned to face his Swan, who was now staring wide eyed up at the ceiling.

"You should sleep, Swan. Rest will help you get better faster."

"I'm not tired," Emma lied. "How about we watch a movie?"

"Whatever the lady wants," Killian bowed and walked over to their DVD stash. "What shall it be?"

"Something funny," the blonde said, not at all wanting to deal with a movie that could possibly stir up the emotions her and Killian had yet to discuss.

"What's this _22 Jump Street_? If the cover is anything to go by, it looks funny."

"Oohhh," Emma's eyes lit up. "You haven't seen _21 Jump Street Yet_. How about we watch that on Netflix first?"

"Sounds great," Killian said, putting the DVD in his hand onto the TV stand to watch later. "Would you like popcorn?"

"No thanks," Emma shook her head, "I'm actually kind of nauseous."

"Why don't I get you a couple of those Tums pills," he suggested. Emma had to smile at her sweet man.

"I just really don't feel like tasting anything right now."

"Water is non-negotiable," he said, echoing David's earlier words. Without waiting to see if Emma would protest, he went to pour a glass of water from the tap. When he returned, he found Emma staring at him. "What?" He asked.

"Nothing," Emma smiled and took the glass from him. "I just love you."

* * *

A/N: I originally planned for this to be a two-parter, but I have some ideas so it'll be a little longer than I anticipated. This hiatus can't end soon enough. If you feel so inclined, please let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you all for the lovely comments, follows, and favorites. They mean the world to me, and I'm glad you enjoyed the first chapter.

* * *

Before the movie was even halfway over, Kilian looked down at Emma's head ‒which was on his lap‒ and found her fast asleep. He smiled and paused the movie; though she'd already seen it and would likely have no objections to him finishing it while she was conked out, he wanted to be able to share the novelty of the _Jump Street_ franchise with her. Her phone buzzed on the table, and Killian held his breath, hoping she wouldn't wake up. She simply stirred, yawned, and snuggled closer into him, as if that was even possible. He carefully reached forward and picked her phone up and was surprised to see a text from Regina, not David.

 _What time are you picking Henry up?_

Curt and to the point as usual. After debating for a few moments, Killian decided he should respond to Regina on behalf of his Swan. He punched in the four digit passcode that Emma had shared only with him ‒the truest act of trust, Henry had said.

 _This is Killian, Emma is asleep with a cold. It would probably be wise for the lad to stay with you until she's better so as not to get him sick._

Killian pressed the lock button and leaned back with a sigh. He just wished he could make Emma feel better. He realized it was nearing lunchtime and apparently, so did Emma's stomach. It growled, but in her deep sleep, she didn't seem to notice. Just as began taking a mental stock of what they had on hand ‒bread and cheese, eggs, pancake mix‒ the blonde's face screwed up in a pained expression and she let out a tiny whimper. He stared down at her, unsure of what to do. She needed her rest, but he also didn't want her suffering from a nightmare.

He knew exactly what _that_ was like, and he wouldn't even wish it on the Crocodile.

"Emma," he said gently. When she didn't wake up, he tried shaking her shoulders slightly. Still nothing.

"Killian!" The blonde screeched and bolt upright, nearly knocking both her and Killian off the couch in the process. It took her a moment to get her bearings, and slowly but surely, the terror in her eyes faded to fear and embarrassment.

"It's alright love, I'm right here," the dark haired man pulled her to him. She leaned into his strong embrace and let out a breath of relief and mumbled 'sorry' into his shoulder. "There's nothing to be sorry about," he whispered, pulling back just enough so that he could look her in the eye. "I survived _dying_ , I'm not going anywhere."

"This is the third spectacle I've caused today," she groaned, untangling herself from Killian so that she could hide her face in her hands. "I _really_ hate being the center of attention."

And he had to laugh at that because _of course_ she was coming down from a nightmare, sick as a dog, and still worrying about what people thought of her. He knew that if she wasn't sick, she'd have swatted his arm by then, so he reeled himself in and asked,

"How about lunch?"

Though her stomach did flip-flops at the mere thought of food, Emma had to admit she was hungry. She nodded, and he got up to turn on the stove.

"I figure grilled cheese is the best option. Nutritious but bland enough that it shouldn't make you sick," he said.

"I don't know if my mom would agree about the 'nutritious' part but that sounds great, thanks," she begrudgingly left her comfy spot on the couch to sit at the counter island and watch him. She loved watching Killian do even the simplest tasks. The domesticity of it all gave her comfort and hope that they'd eventually work past everything. He buttered four pieces of bread and put them on the pan, then added a piece of cheese to the top of each. As he put a kettle on for hot chocolate (bless that man), Emma blurted, "I dreamt that I wasn't able to save you from the Underworld."

Her words caused him to freeze in place and nearly drop the mug he'd just taken out of the cabinet.

"Emma‒"

"I'm not expecting you to say anything," she mumbled, looking down at her hands. "I just… for what it's worth, I've been having nightmares since we got back. And I know you have been, too, and I'm not trying to force you to talk about anything because you have the right to wait till you're ready, if you're ever ready, and…" she trailed off, realizing she was babbling. She looked up and saw his stiffened body and knew that if he'd been facing her, she'd see his jaw clenched.

"Why didn't you say anything sooner?" He asked, trying to keep his voice calm. Oh, it was filled with love, as always, but Emma picked up on the hard edge he tried to keep out of it. He was angry, and for a few moments she was worried the anger was directed at her for calling him out on the nightmares. She then decided that no, he wasn't mad at her, but at himself.

"Same reason you haven't said anything either," she shrugged. "Killian… we've been through a shit ton. Both of us. I think it's okay if we're not okay."

He seemed to relax at her words, which made Emma happy.

"I suppose you're right," he sighed and went to retrieve the glass of water she'd left on the coffee table. After he put it in front of her he disappeared again and came back with two Advil. "These should help with the fever and headache," he said.

"Thanks," she smiled. As he flipped the grilled cheeses, he said,

"My nightmares are about losing you. Or that I actually followed through with my plan and killed your family. Or that… that I didn't come back from the Underworld," he hung his head at that, and Emma got up to wrap her arms around him, grateful that the sleep had at least gotten rid of the vertigo for the time being.

"Killian," she said quietly. When he refused to look up, she said more firmly, "Killian, look at me."

"What?" He sounded defeated as he struggled to meet her gaze.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of. I can't… I can' even imagine what you went through down there. Trust me, nobody would think any less of you, least of all me. Both my parents had nightmares after their sleeping curses. Henry did. Regina might act like a total bitch, but underneath all the snarkiness she's a total sap. You know about me and all of my issues. Gold's a friggin', well, goldmine of insecurities. None of us are as put together as we want people to think, and neither are you. I know that beneath your swashbuckling rapscallion persona, you still wonder what you did to deserve me ‒there are many things, and it would take me too long to get into it‒ but the point remains: we're all human, including you. If I've learned one thing from my crazy family, it's that letting people in doesn't make you weak; it makes you strong. So whenever you're ready, my ears will be waiting."

"Your ears will be waiting?" Killian cocked an eyebrow, and Emma smirked.

"See, this is why I don't do sentimental. I suck at it."

"I personally think it was lovely until that last sentence," he smiled, wrapping his arms around her.

"As much as I love this, if you burn my grilled cheese I'm gonna be pissed," she said, making a show of smelling the air to prove her point. Killian laughed, _really_ laughed, for the first time in what felt like ages before pulling away and flipping the grilled cheeses onto the plates Emma had gotten down.

As she reached for her plate, he grasped her wrist. Blue eyes met green and he said,

"Thank you."

Emma simply smiled and nodded.

* * *

"For the love of all the gods above, will you _please_ just take the bloody medicine?" Killian said in a much too carefully measured voice.

He was a patient man. A _very_ patient man. He'd waited three centuries to exact his revenge on the Crocodile. Then he'd waited one and a half utterly agonizing years for Emma to finally realize her love for him.

But if Emma didn't start cooperating he thought he was going to spontaneously combust.

"I don't need the medicine!" The blonde protested, nearly swatting the bottle of Nyquil out of Killian's hands

"That's it, I'm calling your mother," he reached into his pocket and fished out his cell, and as he began scrolling through his contacts, Emma realized he wasn't bluffing.

"Fine! I'll take the damn medicine," she threw her hands up in defeat and all but yanked the bottle out of his grasp. Hiding a smirk, Killian put his phone back in his pocket.

Half an hour later, after he'd gotten Emma tucked into bed and sound asleep, he went downstairs to clean up from lunch. He jumped when his phone vibrated, and once again took it from his pocket and hit 'accept call'.

"Hello?" He said, careful to keep his voice low so as not to disturb Emma.

"Hey, how is she?" David asked by way of greeting.

"Better than this morning I think. It's hard to tell, though, considering she doesn't complain. I had to threaten to call Snow to get her to take her medicine."

"Sounds like she's doing better, then," David chuckled.

"She can walk without falling over now, so yes." Killian paused, thought for a moment, then continued, "She took your advice, mate."

"What advice?" David feigned confusion, which the pirate saw right through.

"Come on, Davy, you and I both know what I'm referring to: the nightmares. She and I had a nice chat."

"Oh," David breathed out and chose to ignore the irritating nickname Killian had come to develop an affinity for. "Well, I hope you don't hate me."

"I don't," Killian said. "I could never, not if you don't hate me after everything that happened."

"We've been over this. You did the right thing in the end, though I'd prefer if you hadn't plotted to kill us in the first place. No harm no foul, alright?"

"I know," Killian sighed. "Look, as much as I enjoy talking to you, I should probably get back to Emma."

"Yeah, okay. Goodnight," David hung up. Killian scrubbed a hand over his face, then resumed cleaning up before falling into bed next to Emma.

* * *

Emma woke up feeling much better than she had the day before. A part of her thought about milking the whole thing, and playing sick for the week. She knew Killian would be more than happy about playing the part of the doting boyfriend. And the little girl in her was ecstatic at the care she was getting from her family. She'd never had that growing up, and as an adult, she'd always taken care of herself when she was sick. To have Killian get her water or another blanket when she didn't want to get off the couch was a blessing.

But there was still the part of her that was used to doing things on her own and didn't want to be a burden to everyone else (though she had a feeling that if she voiced that out loud she'd have to listen to another lecture).

As much as she'd love to have a lazy day in bed with Killian waiting on her, she just couldn't do that to him.

And she was far too stubborn.

She slipped out of bed and began looking for the leggings she knew were clean _somewhere_. To her surprise, Killian didn't wake up. She frowned; he always woke up when she got out of bed. She glanced at the alarm clock next to her bed. As she began to wonder why the hell she was up at 7:00 AM without needing to have been woken up by an alarm clock (or Killian), she realized it was way more out of character for him _not_ to be up at this time. She shrugged it off, chalking it up to him being up late worrying about her and finally getting a full, deep sleep after weeks of nightmares waking him up every night like clockwork.

She threw on her leggings, along with a sweater, and decided that nobody could bitch to her about 'proper work attire' because she was the boss of the Sheriff's Department. Killian, at any rate, certainly wouldn't complain once he woke up.

She quietly crossed the hall to the bathroom and applied light makeup, then threw her hair up in a ponytail.

She could breathe out of her nose today, thank god, and hadn't yet felt the urge to cough. She put her red leather jacket on and grabbed a pop tart. _So close_ , she thought, _if I can just start the car without him waking‒_

"Swan!" She heard him yell.

 _Shit_.

"Yes, Killian?" She called back in the sweetest voice possible.

"I'm sick!" He all but whined. When she didn't immediately answer, he said in a nasally voice, "Come take care of me!"

In that moment, Emma realized she didn't have nearly as much patience as Killian Jones.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I can't apologize enough for how long it's taken me to update. A new semester just started, and I've been very busy with my internship. That being said, I don't anticipate this big of a gap between updates in the future.

* * *

Emma mentally counted to ten as she made her way back up the stairs. She loved Killian. She really, _truly_ did, more than she'd ever loved any other man, but the one thing she absolutely could not stand was whining. Emma herself rarely ever whined, and when she did, it was usually in a joking manner. She simply didn't believe in it, because it never got anyone anything in life. Killian wasn't a whiner, either, which was wonderful. They thought so much alike and were so in sync, sometimes it scared her.

As she rounded the corner to their bedroom, she almost laughed at the sight: Killian had the comforter pulled all the way up to his chin and he looked almost comically miserable… like he was playing it up a bit.

If he thought she was going to put on a sexy nurse outfit and nurse him back to health he had another thing coming.

"Seriously?" She asked, arms crossed and eyebrow cocked.

"I'm sick," he stated as if it wasn't obvious.

"Yeah, I can see that," she said, frowning as she put a hand on his forehead. "You do have a fever… hold on, I'm getting the thermometer." When she reappeared from the master bath, he was shivering. Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, she handed the thermometer out to him.

In response, he gave her the puppy dog eyes.

"Fine," she huffed, "Open your mouth."

He did as told, and she stuck the device into his mouth and held it until it beeped.

"Is it bad?" He croaked.

"101.7," the blonde answered. "That's not too bad." As she poured him a glass of the water from the pitcher they kept on a table near the window, he asked,

"Why are you dressed?"

"I was going to go to work," she replied.

"I figured as much," Killian said. "You stopped breathing through your mouth around midnight, and usually that means the unfortunate soul who is sick is feeling better."

"You stayed up just to keep an eye on me?" Emma asked, a touched smile replacing the annoyed downturn of her lips.

"Of course," he said, then took a greedy sip of the glass she handed him. "Love, could you put this on the nightstand for me? My body aches, and moreso when I so much as move."

"Sure," she said, offering him a patient smile as she slipped the glass from his hand and set it down on the table that was literally touching the mattress.

"What are you doing?" Killian whined as she turned around.

"Calling my dad…" she gave him a curious look. "The reception's better downstairs. I'll only be gone a few minutes, you'll be fine."

"I miss you already," he called after her.

* * *

"Emma?" David asked into the phone, hoping his voice didn't betray his worry.

"How do I stop feeing guilty for wanting there to be an emergency that requires me to, say, save a cat from a tree ‒nothing serious‒ just so I can get a break from Killian's whining?"

"You sound a lot better, how are yo ‒wait _what_?"

"I'm fine," Emma waved her hand dismissively despite her father not being able to see. "Killian isn't. He's sick, too. And he won't stop whining. He's like a clingy two year old. Hell, _Henry_ wasn't this clingy when he was two. Well, at least, that's what my fake memories tell me, but still."

"Give him an extra dose of Nyquil and that'll be the end of that," David suggested with a smirk.

"He drinks rum like water, trust me, ten doses of Nyquil wouldn't touch him."

"Sorry, that's all I've got."

"It's okay," Emma sighed, walking up to the front window and looking out. "I had every intention of coming in ‒I snuck around the house like a pro, and right as I was about to go out the door, he woke up and asked me to take care of him. I can't leave him, no matter how much he's annoying me. But if something comes up and you need me, I can leave him for a li‒"

"No worries, kiddo. Things are calm and I've got everything under control. Seriously."

"Okay. Call me if you need me."

"I will," David assured her.

"I love you," Emma said after a moment. Smiling, he said,

"I love you too. Talk to you later."

With that, he disconnected the call. Biting her lip, Emma thumbed through her contacts and pressed the "Mom" button, as Killian would say. Of course, Mary Margaret answered on the first ring and did a far worse job of hiding her worry than David did.

"How are you feeling, honey?"

"I think I'm all better," Emma replied.

"I'm glad, but make sure you take it easy. It could still rear its ugly head again."

"I will. I'm actually staying home, to take care of Killian. I kinda gave my cold to him…"

"Have fun," Snow said, and Emma could hear the smirk on the other woman's lips.

"Oh, I'm having a _blast_ ," the blonde's words dripped sarcasm, and both women laughed for a few moments before remembering each had someone to take care of‒ baby Neal in Snow's case and, well, a grown up baby in Emma's.

"Your father is a whiner when he's sick, too," Snow said.

"That's why I'm calling. How do I get Killian to shut up?"

"You can't," the brunette said. "You just have to let it run its course, and when he's feeling better, he'll stop whining."

"Emma!" Killian shouted. "It's been more than a couple minutes!"

"Oh God… sorry mom, I have to go." With that, Emma promptly hung up and made sure to plaster a smile to her face before going back into their room. "I was talking to my mom," she said pointedly. "What was so important that I had to hang up?"

"I'm lonely," he stated.

"Let me get you some medicine," she said. Ignoring Killian's protests, she retrieved the Nyquil and poured the correct dose into the plastic cup; she didn't want him to know she was giving him Nyquil in a feeble attempt to get him to fall asleep.

"No," Killian said as soon as she put the cup into his hand. "It tastes bad."

"You made me take medicine yesterday, and you damn well better take it or so help me God I am going to punch you in the face and quite possibly _far worse_. You might have the patience of a saint, but I don't and I'm not good at taking care of people and I'm trying to be nice but clearly failing miserably. Take the damn medicine."

This seemed to scare him enough to down the purple liquid.

"Ack!" Killian sputtered. "That stuff tastes _awful_. It should be abolished!"

"I agree with you on that," she said quietly, stroking his hair. "But it'll make you feel better, okay?" With a huff, he weakly pulled her onto the bed.

"Stay."

"I'm not going anywhere," she said, carefully climbing over him and settling down on her side of the bed. After a few moments, she said, "You know, for the most feared pirate in all the realms, you're such a wuss when you're sick."

At that, Killian let out an indignant huff, but didn't try to argue. Surprisingly, he was sleeping again within minutes, and Emma realized she couldn't climb out of bed because her shoulder was currently his pillow, and she didn't want to wake him up. With a sigh, she pulled up one of the numerous games she had on her phone and resigned herself to an afternoon of gaming.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time or its characters. I'm just borrowing them for my own enjoyment.

* * *

A few hours later, Killian finally stirred. He moaned and groggily opened his eyes to find Emma smirking at him.

"You talk in your sleep when you're sick," she said, her lips twitching.

"And what did I say?" he asked, his voice sounding more like it normally did and far less nasally. The cold medicine might have tasted awful, but Killian sure felt a whole lot better.

"You thought… I was Milah," the blonde answered softly. Kilian's eyes were swimming with panic and guilt, and he was about to stutter an apology and try to salvage the situation when she held a hand up. "It's okay."

"Emma, I‒ I'm so sorry," he said, seemingly ignoring her reassurances. "I‒"

" _Killian_ ," she said, softly but firmly, "It's okay. Honey, you're sick, your body isn't used to cold medicine, so it's understandable that you're very out of it."

The pet name fell out of her mouth so naturally she almost missed it, but Killian clearly didn't. For a split second, Emma was mortified. She'd never been the pet-namey type, simply because in her foster families, most of the parents didn't get along, so she hadn't heard pet names growing up. Even when she and Neal were together ‒and with Walsh‒ she rarely used them.

But with Killian, they somehow felt… right.

"'Honey'?" he quirked up an eyebrow. Oh, he was definitely feeling better.

"Would you prefer 'asshole'?"

"Skipping out on work you two?" David said from the doorway with an annoyed look. Killian and Emma both jumped, causing the younger man to smirk.

"Dad!" the blonde hissed. "What are you doing here?"

"Checking on you guys," he said. Once he was sure they were both fully clothed, he entered the room. "Neither of you were answering your phones."

Emma looked down at the phone in her hand, and she felt her face heat up. "It was on airplane mode… Killian must have accidentally put it on yesterday, and I didn't notice. And he was sleeping."

"Sorry to worry you," Killian added. "I don't feel quite as much like I am about to keel over."

"Well I'm glad you're both feeling better. Your mother figured you must be starving, so she had me bring Granny's over. I set the food downstairs whenever you're ready."

"Thank you," Emma said, untangling herself from the sheets. She pulled David in for a hug. He clearly wasn't expecting it, but was happy nonetheless. Turning to Killian, she said, "Do you want me to bring lunch up here?"

"It's alright, love. I'll come downstairs."

They walked David to the door, and Emma watched his car disappear down the street from the window. With a sigh, she sat herself across from Killian and dug into her grilled cheese.

"I love you," Emma said as she took a bite.

"And I you," he replied, his nose scrunched up in thought.

"You look confused," she said.

"No, I just… you only say that when we're parting or during particularly emotional times. Are you breaking up with me for your grilled cheese?"

It took Emma a moment to get it, but then she laughed.

"No, no," she waved her hand dismissively, "I just, I don't know. I _do_ love you, so much. And sometimes I feel like I don't say it enough, or express it enough." She shrugged, then continued. "I mean, I'm not particularly romantic. I would never set up a candlelit dinner with rose petals on the floor for us. And I called you 'honey', and it just felt so natural and _right_. And I don't think I'll do it a lot, because to be honest it does sound kind of awkward coming out of my mouth, but… I realized it was the first time I'd ever said something like that to you, in _all this time_ that I've loved you ‒granted for most of it I tried to deny it‒ and you've always been so open and honest about how you feel about me, I've never doubted the way you feel. And then I think about all the times you _didn't_ know and second guessed my feelings ‒once you actually thought I had any‒ and even then you had doubts. I guess my point is that I love you, and please never doubt that. I may not express it all the time, but it's there. It's always there."

She paused for a moment, then nodded to herself. Seemingly content with everything she'd said, she looked up over to him. Killian, for his part, was doing his best to stifle chuckles.

"If this was a few months ago, you'd be yelling at me for finding this funny," he said.

"And now I'm just wondering what the hell you think is so funny," she said, giving him a look.

"Loving you during those trying times may not have been easy, but it was ‒and is‒ absolutely worth it. That's what I want you to never doubt."

"So… you're not bothered because you're a romantic and I'm not?"

"What? Emma, don't be ridiculous. You may not see the value of romance, but you appreciate me and my words anyway. You might prefer a picnic on the Jolly rather than the rose petal candlelit dinner, and that's fine with me. Romance and love are very different things, as I've learned over my many years. For you, love is simple and it's enough; you don't need all the fancy fixings. When you love someone, you love with your body and your soul. You, Emma Swan, may not be a romantic, but you _are_ a lover. And your love cannot be bought with good looks and pretty words, which is why it took you an unusually long amount of time to fall in love with the devilishly handsome pirate that is me."

Emma opened and closed her mouth once, twice, three times. That man could be so infuriatingly full of himself.

But she also found it infuriatingly attractive.

And endearing.

At her inability to form words, Killian simply chuckled and reached out to caress her cheek. She found herself leaning into his warm touch and smiled up at him through her lashes.

"I love you," she said.

He knew she'd never been more serious in her life

"Let's get married," she added.

Well that, _that_ Killian wasn't so sure she was completely serious about.

"That's bad form, proposing to a man high on cold medicine," he teased.

"Cold meds or no cold meds, I know what your answer would be," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and straddling him.

"Bloody hell, yes you do," he muttered.

"Because _you_ ," she said, pushing him backwards and locking her arms to keep from completely landing on top of him ‒and Killian curses that teasing smirk and golden hair that surrounds her like a halo‒ "are an open book."

And _God_ , this is everything Killian never knew he wanted and never thought he deserved. Lazy mornings playing hooky with his Swan where the weight of the world was lifted off her shoulders for just a while.

All he could say around the lump in his throat was, "I'm glad you never listen and that you're bloody impossible."

Because if she hadn't gone to the Underworld to save him…

"I'm glad you chose to have a future," she said softly, cutting off wherever his mind was headed. She leaned down and kissed him tenderly.

Killian suddenly flipped them, eliciting a squeak from his Swan.

"We're quite the pair, aren't we?" he smirked, relishing in the way she squirmed underneath him, desperate to unpin her hands from his to gain some sort of control. "One too stubborn to give up on the one who was hellbent on giving up."

"Underworld-bent…" It was one word, but it was their undoing. Killian collapsed into a fit of giggles next to Emma, who was borderline screaming in amusement. "Maybe we're still a little high…" she said once they finally calmed down.

"Thanks for ruining the moment, Swan," he teased.

"You never answered my question," she said softly after a beat.

"Yes, I'll marry you," he said, pulling her in for a kiss. "On one condition."

"Anything."

"We leave 'till death do us part' out of our vows."


End file.
